


All dolled up in my new white dress (But don't forget the blood and mascara lines)

by Ladyboo



Series: Darlin' and the Doctor [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Spock is a good friend, academy au, bones is bad with words, bones thinks jamie is still sleeping around, fem!Jim, mentioned tarsus, mentioned underage, oblivious!bones, trigger warning, who is tired of bones bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyboo/pseuds/Ladyboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she wanted was one date. One single, simple date, where they had some non-alcoholic drinks and a few good laughs and he saw that she could be a mature, responsible lady. One single, simple, happy date with Leonard. Instead, Jamie got one of the worst nights of her life, and nothing that seemed to go right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All dolled up in my new white dress (But don't forget the blood and mascara lines)

**Author's Note:**

> Fem Jim, because yaknow, I felt like writing a fem Jim. No problem there, and I picture Amber Heard as my fem Jim, because she's a rather striking woman. Featuring best friend Spock, because even if I'm not writing that ship, that is an epic friendship that I can't very well ignore, now can I? Warning, non-con/sexual assault and non-con drug use.  
> Comments are appreciated

There were a lot of things that Jamie Kirk could say turned her on.

She liked exotic things, for starters.

As far from xenophobic as a person could get, anyone that was different from her was automatically in the right. Not that blond hair and blue eyes weren't attractive, it was just that, well, she had some issues with that sort of coloration (see: Tarsus IV, an Eugenics Disaster in the making that the Federation ignored till it was too late, by Jamie Kirk, unwritten and unpublished). Brunettes though, brunettes were nice, and red heads were a feisty breed if she'd ever seen one. Black hair was nice too, all inky and soft, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with non-Terran colors either. Those were pretty nice too. Aliens were a wide ranging breed and, if they treated her right, she had no qualm with having an intergalactic bed partner for the night, even if they never actually touched the bed.

Accents were good things too.

Accents meant that someone was different, meant that they weren't from where she was from. Granted, not many people actually were from small time Riverside, Iowa, where the only things they really had were the shipping yard where the Enterprise was being made, and the memorial for one George Kirk, Starfleet hero extraordinaire. She liked accents, liked them just fine, because accents meant someone was different, and different was always a good thing. Different could mean a different part of the planet, or even another part of the universe, from slurring to clinical, she liked them all.

And she wasn't picky about the gender of her partners; if they could get her off, then Jamie was more than happy to take a tumble in the sheets with them. Tumbles were fun things; they meant that she got to get off and fingers, tongues, dicks, vaginas and even the occasional alien genital were more than welcome around her lady parts. If they played nice. She had a few rules of things that just didn't fly, and any toe out of line in a direction she didn't like was quickly shut down, and Jamie would pull her panties, and pants, back up.

This though?

"I might throw up on you."

Yeah, that _wasn't_ one of the things that turned her on.

Emetophilia was as far from up her alley as it could get, and she was more than happy to stay as far away from that sort of thing as she could. Roman Showers weren't fun for anyone as far as she was concerned, not the person who was puking and definitely not the person being puked on. Jamie had vomited enough in her life to know that it wasn't a leisurely past time activity that she wanted to do any time soon, let alone for sex.

The hazel eyed, sour faced man who had spoken though?

Well, he was right up her alley.

Getting him to see that _she_ was right up his though?

That seemed like a more daunting challenge than she'd anticipated.

It had started at first, probably the first few months, that all she wanted was to sleep with him, because hey, he was an attractive looking man, and as an attractive looking woman, she could totally get behind that. Er, in front of that, actually, or on top or underneath it, but the point still stood. Except, weeks of being his friend had spilled into months, and that had turned into a year. By their second year, there was a painfully tight, breathless feeling in her chest every time she saw him, and a relentless burn had settled around her heart at just the thought of him.

She even stopped sleeping around within those first months of being his friend, and she had a long talk with herself about just what was going on, and found out that for the first time, she was in love.

And it hurt, because Bones seemed to turn a blind eye where Jamie's affections for him were concerned, even though he still got on her as if she were sleeping around. 

And that needed to change.

-

Leonard Horatio 'Bones' McCoy was a gentleman, from a true blue southern family who could trace their roots back all the way to a man who had fought in the American Civil War. He had a great, great granddaddy who had been one of the first men up in the black, and he knew the code of conduct for debutants, of all things. He was a man with values, morals and class and that sort of thing; the kind of guy who liked to sip on old vintage Bourbon and sit in swanky jazz bars that were a throwback to the early 20th Century.

Jamie could do classy and swanky.

Jamie could _totally_ do classy and swanky.

"Hey, Bones."

"Hm."

Lunch wasn't much fun when her food partner ignored her almost completely. Sure, she supposed that his article on Kazonian Frontal Lobe Hemorrhages was no doubt very entertaining, probably ridiculously enlightening and wonderful, all that jazz. And the medical world needed him; she knew it did, because he was a genius like that.

But she had more important things for him to worry about, for purely selfish reasons, because Jamie wasn't above admitting that.

He didn't look up at her though, just went on eating his stupid chicken fried steak with one hand, effectively and effortlessly rubbing it into her face that one: she was less entertaining than the things on his PADD, and two: she had a stupid salad because she couldn’t eat the aforementioned stupid chicken fried steak. Allergies. Point in case, both the dairy and the flour on the aforementioned stupid chicken fried steak.

"Bones."

"Mh."

Lips pressing together, fork dropping to her plate with a muffled, plastic clatter, the sound of it didn't even draw his attention and, instead, he flicked his thumb across the bottom of his PADD, changing the page. Frowning, Jamie gave her friend a long look, shifting in her seat once, twice, before letting out a sigh.

He was just going to keep ignoring her.

"Leonard!"

Voice sharp, eyes narrowed, she watched as his head jerked up, finally, fucking finally, and her friend gave her a wide look, fork half way to his mouth. Slowly, watching her, he set the utensil back down, throat clearing.

"Jamie?"

His tone was reproachful, as if she was going to lash out at him from across the table, and slowly, he set the PADD down. Sure enough, the article was indeed on Kazonian Frontal Lobe Hemorrhages, something that she knew was indeed fairly fascinating, because she had glanced over it when it had routed through the terminal in his room. Still, that was hardly the issue, and she leaned forward to brace her elbows on the table in a manner that was neither lady-like nor classy but, hopefully, the fluid motion she took to cross her legs was enough to make up for it.

The raise of his eyebrows said otherwise, but he would just have to get over that shit.

"You on call tonight?"

Just as slowly as he had set the PADD down, Leonard dropped his fork too, though it was less haphazard than when she had tossed her own down and far more determined looking. Precise, like it was a surgical tool that he needed to keep close at hand rather than carelessly discarding and, damnit, she wanted to be treated like that. Like he needed her, like he would lose her if he didn't keep a close eye on her at all times.

His face pulled down into a bit of a frown, and she watched as he quickly wracked through his brain, picking apart the differences of his class schedule and his work schedule. She already knew the answer to that question though, Jamie was a girl that liked to be prepared, and she wouldn't have bothered asking otherwise. Leonard didn't need to know that though, it made him feel more self-empowered if he thought he knew more things than her.

"No, pulled a double yesterday, I'm off for the next thirty-six hours."

Which she had known, because he kept his schedule in the calendar on his PADD, and she kept it on hers in a finer print, but those were just details.

Lips stretching, her smile was a sharp thing, and she gave it to him willingly, happily, because Leonard deserved smiles like that. Smiles full of teeth and promise, of things he could have if he only let himself, if he only stopped doubting her so damn much.

"Good."

"Jami-"

"So, there's this place, right outside of Chinatown, called The Speakeasy, and I've been wanting to go for a while now. Couple of girls in my Xeno-Linguistics course were talking about it last semester, and I never really got around to looking into it until recently."

It was there then, a gleam of interest in his hazel eyes, and it made her smile feel less sharp and her insides warmer. The desire to reach for him was there, to know the feel of his fingers between hers and of her head against his chest, but Leonard had made it painfully clear he had no intentions of being a notch in her bedpost.

As if that was all she wanted.

“And?”

His attempt at nonchalance was endearing, and if she hadn’t known him as well as she did, Jamie probably would have fallen for it. Except, she did know him, the pull to his mouth that meant he was thinking and the push of the muscles around his eyes that meant he was invested in something, that his attention had been firmly caught. Silly Leonard, he seemed to think that he was still able to fool her, the girl who had cleaned his face up when he’d gotten roaring drunk on Joanna’s birthday when he’d been denied access to his daughter.

“Well, I was hoping that you’d go with me,” Shrugging, a puff of air escaped her lips, enough to look like she was reconsidering the thought of it already. He’d take it as a challenge, a test against his pride, and that was enough to give her a bit of hope. Flicking at a piece of her hair where it had fallen over her shoulder, Jamie sighed. “But if you’ve got other plans, that’s fine, I’m sure I can just make Spock go with me.”

There was a clench in his jaw then, sharp and sudden and, just like that, he’d been caught.

“Missy please, that damn hobgoblin wouldn’t know what to do in a place like that if it was a diplomatic necessity.”

Pursing her lips, shrugging once more, Jamie gave him a beseeching look as she waited. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long, not long enough to start picking at her salad again anyway. Bones was good about that, most of the time, the whole not keeping her waiting thing.

“So is that a yes?”

Huffing, he picked up his PADD again, giving her a stink eye over the edge of it.

“Damn straight it is.”

-

Surprisingly, getting Bones to agree to actually go to the classy, swanky, 20th Century throwback jazz bar was the easy part. Once she showed interest in something, he usually didn’t like to tell her no, unless it was for the betterment of her health and all of that. No dairy meant no ice cream, and no wheat meant no sandwiches, but those were things she could live with, since there were substitutes and all. He was pretty intent about the fact that all of her allergies – eggs as of recently, wheat, dairy, bees, roses, tulips and various list of medications, the list growing every time she went to a clinic for something- were things that were to be taken seriously, to the point that he carried a series of hypo’s with him wherever he went.

No, getting Bones to agree to go to the classy, swanky 20th Century throwback jazz bar was by far the easy part, probably because he thought she wanted a wingman.

The not so easy part, was actually steeling herself up for the fact that technically she had just initiated what would be her first date in the history of her life. In the span of her forever, which was actually fairly depressing if she stopped and thought about it, so she tried not to think about it.

“Spock, are you sure this dress looks alright?”

Something she had learned quickly into the ride of their friendship, was that Vulcans did indeed feel. They favored their logic rather than emotion due to the extent of how deeply they could feel, but there was never any chance for her to doubt that they did, indeed, feel. Instead, now she felt a need to become defensive when someone called her companion emotionless, knowing first hand that he was far from it.

A person incapable of emotion wouldn’t have felt compelled to stop and sit beside a strange girl in the hallway, that he had never before met, to get her breathing properly once more. Spock wouldn’t have felt the need to make himself uncomfortable, trying to comfort a young woman who had skipped a class because the presentation covered the _pro_ _s_ of Tarsus IV. Spock cared, enough that he had gotten over his own discomfort and coaxed her back to his apartment to give her something to eat, something to drink, and not asked a single question as to why she had been in her condition.

It was only recently, actually, that he had found out about those circumstances, two years into their friendship and concerned even if he wouldn’t verbally admit it. Instead, she’d broken down those three weeks in the summer when Bones had been gone for a medical conference. Unsettled by the mention of a seminar that would be covering the causes and effects of the disaster on Tarsus IV, the things they could learn from it as well, she’d cracked, unable to breathe, unable to eat, and she’d been reduced to a quivering mess that had cowered under her bed. Nearly out of her mind when Spock had come looking for her, he’d almost lost a precious Vulcan hand trying to drag her out, but he’d done it anyway.

He’d made her talk, fed her and made her drink, and he’d listened. His face had tightened, his eyes had hardened, and his hands had clenched themselves into tight fists that had instantly made her flinch away. Soothing had been required, but eventually, she had calmed down. Spock still carried some of that anger inside of him, she could see it in the way he watched her when they went out for food, the way he hovered when they were in crowds.

“As I am certain that your physical appearance hasn’t gone under any drastic changes since the five minutes when you asked me previously, yes Jamie, the dress looks ‘alright’.”

Vulcans also didn’t lounge.

They were the epitome of all things correct and posh, with their straight posture and their military haircuts. Hands behind their backs at parade rest when they weren’t at attention, quick to spout off any facts of logistics that were needed –or weren’t needed, depending entirely on the situation at hand. They kept themselves presentable, and never took part in any display that would be seen as less than professional and appropriate.

A Vulcan on his second cup of hot chocolate, however, was not only much more likely to lounge, but also prone to large bouts of sass and amusement.

Such was the explanation for the way that Spock was stretched out across her bed, elevated up only by the mountain of pillows behind his head. The cup cradled in his hands was steaming, thin wisps of white smoke, courtesy of the replicator on the far side of the room. There was an emerald flush to his cheeks, high across the sweeping bone there, and his hair was disheveled from where she had ruffled her fingers through it.

That particular action had been roughly a half an hour ago, and he had yet to fix the mess she had made of him.

“It’s a serious question, alright? I’ve worked damn hard at thi-“

“I know Jamie, you said this when I helped you with your makeup.”

And it was true, because she had, trembling with excitement and nerves when she’d told him that she’d done it, she’d actually managed to get Bones to agree to go somewhere with her. And it was a date, it was, even if Bones didn’t know that yet, because she knew it, she felt it, the sort of exhaustion and courage that it had taken Jamie to speak those words in a strong tone. Bones didn’t know of her nerves, her unease, but Spock did.

Spock, who had had to chastise her more than once to keep still, he was going to damage her eye if she kept moving like that, who was patient with her as he helped her paint her face. He’d deemed her hands too shaken to do it herself, and it had been true, because she couldn’t even wrap her fingers around the tube to paint her lashes, so he had done it for her.

Now, her best friend was mellowed out, lounged across her bed like a large panther staking its claim in a patch of warm sunlight, and the sight was enough to relax her a bit.

Spock had told her it would be fine, had reasoned with her that Leonard had agreed, which meant something at least. Granted, her friend’s experience with human dating rituals was rather limited, and he was still harboring a sort of crush for Nyota that she had only learned about by filling him with copious amounts of chocolate. He was her best friend though, and his own inexperience didn’t mean he didn’t see things, didn’t know things. Spock was smart like that, educated.

Pressing her lips together, the scarlet paint across them smeared a bit, nothing visible even though she could feel the waxy slide of it, but she pursed them in the mirror just to be sure. Fingers trailing across the white lace where it clung to her body like a second skin, she could feel the slide of nude fabric beneath it, hiding her bare skin beneath.

“I’m nervous.”

Nervous enough that she suddenly felt inadequate in her white lace dress and her mussed updo. She’d seen holos of Jocelyn Treadway, with her emerald eyes and her fiery tumble of curls, smooth porcelain skin. The woman was stunning, with large appled cheeks and a laugh that twinkled like the church bells she’d grown up hearing in Iowa. In comparison, Jaime found herself lacking, with her booming cackle of a sound and her tangle of blond.

“You will ruin my work if you continue to touch your face, stop it at once.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Being short with him helped, and when she turned, there was a hint of a smile on her friend’s face once more, and it was soothing.

“You’ll be fine, Jamie.”

“Yeah. I-its just Bones, what could possibly go wrong?”

-

Everything, it turned out, could go wrong.

Really, it was something she should have anticipated, something she should have seen coming, because she hadn’t exactly explained to him that she’d wanted to go on a date. Hadn’t taken the time to make sure that he understood that, in agreeing to go with her, Leonard had indeed signed himself up to be a one-woman man that night.

In actuality, if she felt like being technical about it, he _was_ being a one-woman man, just with the wrong woman.

He had a type even, it seemed, since the woman was nothing more than miles and miles of pale skin and tumbling, turbulent red curls. Bright eyed, long lashed, and the green velvet dress that the woman wore did wonders for her slender figure.

She was beautiful, sleek and stunning, radiant even, and she was everything that Jamie wasn’t.

Lips pressing together to keep them from pulling into a frown, Jamie wrapped her fingers a little tighter around her cup of coffee. Coffee, of course, because she wanted to look mature and sophisticated, and who got roaring drunk at a swanky, classy 20th Century throwback jazz bar anyway?

Evidently the beautiful woman in green, from how she was hanging off of Bones.

Bones, who looked ravishing in his suit and tie, body adorned in long, pressed lines that made him look broader, stronger. There was a shadow of stubble across his jaw, enough to make the line of it look sharper, and his thin lips were ticked up in an amused sort of half-grin. He looked brilliant, just like she’d known he would, because Jamie was smart like that; she planned things out, liked knowing the outcomes.

Instead of talking to her though, instead of keeping _her_ company, Bones was chatting up some sleek red head with the promise of a fun night painted on her lips. And Jamie couldn’t compete with that.

Harshly, the feeling of misery settled deeper into her stomach, making it tighten and twist. She hadn’t planned this at all, hadn’t anticipated that he would look at any other woman while they were out. She’d spent an hour going over her clothes to find a dress suitable for the place they were attending, had tittered to Spock the entire time in a fit of nerves as he’d done her makeup and consequently her hair.

Leonard was completely distracted by another sort of woman all together though, and the blond was left alone by the bar. Perched on a stool, she looked like the picture of sophistication, fitting in just as beautifully as she had planned with the environment around her. White lace hugged her curves gracefully, coffee cup carefully encased in her hands, she’d even gone the extra mile to keep her elbows off the stretch of glistening dark wood.

He’d given her a smile when she’d met him at the designated spot though, and then the conversation had dropped into their studies. He hadn’t once commented on her appearance, hadn’t stopped to tell her how nice she looked, and Leonard wasn’t the type to just ignore things like that, usually was far more on top of things.

He was supposed to be a gentleman.

And, honestly, a gentleman he was being, _but to the wrong woman_.

“Maybe it’s just me, but I always thought the man was supposed to buy the beautiful woman a drink.”

Lips curling into a bit of a sneer, the shift of her lips was hidden behind the rim of her cup of coffee. Still, the presence beside her was impossible to ignore, and Jamie felt the need to shift in her stool. Glancing to the side, following the man’s voice, suddenly she was thankful for the presence of the cup to hide her frown.

Easily, the man was twice her size, larger than her and no doubt larger than Leonard even. Distantly, she remembered seeing him at least once in the sea of cadet reds, but there were thousands of them, and after so long, the faces all blurred together into one cluster of featureless images. Dark hair, dark blue skin and even darker still eyes that seemed to bleed that were watching her with a bright sort of amusement that set her skin crawling.

Nails clacking quietly against the creamy ceramic of her cup, Jamie set it down carefully on the smooth bar. Tipping her lips up into a smile, it was a scathing sort of stretch, but the man didn’t seem to notice that difference. That, or he didn’t care, and the prospect of him not caring made her insides tighten a bit further.

“Sexual equality is a beautiful thing then, it means that the beautiful woman can buy her own drink if she wants.”

Unhindered, he pressed closer to her, invading her personal space in a way that had her back straightening painfully. For once, Spock would have been proud of her posture, she thought with a fleeting thought, chased away by the feel of his hand on her lower back. It was searing, unwelcomed, but a glance to the left showed that they were lost in the chattering crowd of bar patrons.

No one noticed though, not in the dim lighting or from within the rush of swirling, seductive music. Bones was across the room, entranced with the woman sitting beside him, lost in her every single word.

Stumbling a bit, one of her hands flew out as the man yanked Jamie off her stool, but no one spared them a glance, and her insides were in her throat now.

“Let go of m-“

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. If you want to keep that pretty head of yours, you’ll shut the fuck up right now and not kick up any bit of a fuss, you hear me?”

Despite the temperature in the room, the enveloping warmth caused by a cluster of people, she felt cold. Painfully, breathlessly cold, and her muscles were too tight to feel like they were even made of flesh anymore, but the man didn’t seem to notice as he pulled her along all the same. Quickly, she tried to glance back, tried to see if somehow she’d caught her friend’s attention, but there was nothing but ignorance on his face, and she was greeted with the turn of his shoulder.

Another yank, and she was pulled in the direction of the door, her skin feeling clammy and her pulse hammering away. This was wrong, this wasn’t right, she didn’t want this sort of thing. Bones was supposed to be noticing, he was supposed to be coming to defend her honor, but with the way that the man’s hand was splayed on her back, he probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.

The sound of his laughter was easy to hear over the smooth music in the air though, and it was the last thing she heard as the door swung shut behind them.

Outside, the air was hot, stifling in a way that only San Francisco could ever manage to be at night. Pulsing lights from the surrounding buildings cast ghastly shadows across her skin, and his grip was painfully tight upon her arm. Keeping her at his side, there were going to be bruises there, she could feel them already forming in a band around her arm. A crushing sort of grasp, and it was strange, how empty the street around them was, how desolate and void.

“Wh-“

Sharp, her head cracked in the opposite direction, and the cracking sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the air around them. Face burning, the gasp tore itself from her throat before she could stop it, and Jamie stumbled as he pulled her along.

“Stop fucking talking.”

Struggling, trying to pull back, her actions gained her nothing but a faint chuckle of his laughter, and there was a roar of anger bubbling up in her stomach now.

“Fucker!”

Hand curling into a fist, she swung at him, once, twice, making contact with him enough to know that his skin seemed to be made of stone, unyielding against her own blows. Worse, her actions seemed to only amuse him further, and Jamie found herself thrust against the wall behind them. Head snapping back with a harsh, scraping motion, her breath left her in a quick rush, and Jamie barely had time to catch herself as his hand pressed tight against her throat.

“Gah!”

Blood roaring in her ears, breath caught at the point where his hand pressed, Jamie pressed her palms back into the wall. Trying to push herself up to dislodge his grasp, she only succeeded in pressing into it farther, and her heart thundered away as her head started to swim.

“Make this a lot easier if you stop making such a fuss.”

A sharp prick put an itch on the skin of her neck between the gaps of his fingers, and the familiar hiss of a hypo had her eyes widening in alarm. Whimpering, feet kicking out, she caught him in the knee, the thigh, but neither attempt did anything, and the empty hypo hit the ground with a quiet clatter. Suddenly, her head was swimming, the dim lighting from the head of the alley blurring into one continuous stream of color, and the thundering of her heart seemed to slow to half its speed.

Eyes fluttering, Jamie found the image of him was swimming, shifting before her eyes as if he wasn’t even really there at all, and her movements felt slow, muddled. He’d released his hold on her neck, leaving her to slump against the building, and instead his hands were moving across her sides, slipping down to the slope of her thighs. Heavy handed touches, things she didn’t want, and he was pushing, pulling at the fabric of her dress until it cried out from the abuse and ripped along a seam, exposing a thigh to the hot air.

Slowly, she became aware of what was happening when the world tilted on its axis and he spun her about. Heels catching, the black arch of one of them snapped and her height became uneven, causing her to stumble further. Cheek pressing harshly into the wall, her skin scrapped across the rough stone, and Jamie shut her eyes to try and ignore the feeling of it, but the action was delayed. Hands moving out slowly, the actions were weak, nothing if not weak, and she felt heavy where her body tried to move. He deflected them easily, one meaty fist wrapping completely around her wrists, twisting them until they were pinned to her back, pressing her harder into the wall.

He kicked one of her feet out then, and it was only the pressure on her back that kept her upright. Still, her body dragged across the stone, pulling blood to the surface and cutting the delicate skin on her cheek, forehead, chin.

More tearing, the sounds of fabric ripping were impossible to ignore, but they were slow to process, nearly impossible to understand, until she could feel the hot, sticky air against her bare sex. Her entire body seizing up, tightening painfully, Jamie jerked sharply in an attempt to get away once more, but instead, she was pushed firmly into the wall by the added hand to the back of her head. Fingers tangling in her hair, pulling at the strands, he pushed hard, hard enough that she felt the cartilage in her nose break, felt the rush of blood down the front of her just as she felt the sharp, consuming pain of him forcing his way inside her body.

So much, it was too much, the pain so swift and searing that she couldn’t even find the breath within her chest to scream from it. Shoved further into the wall instead, the hand on the back of her head tightened, grinding her face against the wall, but the pain there was hardly noticed past the scorching pulse from her core. Tears slicked her face, mingling with the blood and the snot, and her breaths were short, hiccupping sounds that were punched out of her chest by every thrust he gave.

Harsh pounds that send her crashing into the wall, skin catching, and she was bleeding. Bleeding, with the brilliant red of it staining her once pristine white dress, turning the golden tan of her skin a macabre collageof blood red and dirt grey and torn flesh tan. It was horrible, and it was consuming, and when she tried to force away, his fingers tightened on the back of her head. Shoving her harder, giving it to her faster, and she didn’t want it, but she couldn’t scream, couldn’t find the breath to make a single sound. Any she would want to make were punched out of her anyways, muffled by the brick that he was trying to make her take a mouthful of, and he was pulling out chunks of her hair, nails cutting into her scalp.

Her body was being torn apart from the inside, and he was laughing, a deep and low chuckle that made her skin feel cold and her mind scatter listlessly between her ears. Time had no meaning, nothing mattered past the pain and the dull, dimmed feeling of everything else around her and, after a length of time she couldn’t discern, Jamie felt him pull out of her. Quickly following this, there was a burning splatter of liquid on her exposed back, and she belatedly tried to cringe away from the sensation.

“Thanks, Kirk.”

His hands were gone from her then, taking with them the only things that had been supporting her, and her body quickly crumpled to the ground.

His footsteps echoed away after another lapse of time and, slowly, her fingers searched for where her purse had fallen a few feet away. It took far too long to find it, longer still to manage to get her fingers within it to pull out her communicator, and by then her fingers were going numb. Somehow, slowly, she managed to find a familiar number, hitting the redial function from the last one she had called.

By the time it was ringing, she was sobbing, choking, shaking cries that jolted her entire body on the wet pavement, and she barely heard her name being said, because her head was swimming. Her head was swimming, her ears were ringing, and oh – she couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe, and that was it, that was all she knew before there was nothing at all.

-

_There are hands on her face, on her throat, and there is a crippling pain tearing through her entire body. Suffocating her, there is laughter, sharp and echoing, matching in time with the sharp smile on the man’s face that slowly morphs into something else. Distinctly, she can hear a different sort of candor in his voice, catch a different sort of tone to his speech, and his scathing tone changes to something entirely different._

_“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. If you want to keep that pretty head of yours-“_

_A familiar drawl replaces the rough tones in his words, and she finds a different sort of terror entirely, more crippling than the first had even been._

_“I ain’t gana help you after this, hell you think you doin’ walking around like that? Fucking asking for it, filthy little bitch, wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted it.”_

_The face isn’t the same, it’s wrong, all of its wrong, but the voice is so heartbreakingly right that it is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong._

_Screaming, her throat aches from it, and her hands fly out to try and displace the weight of her attacker. But she can’t move, and she can’t fight, and all she can do is scream and sob as the pain and the shame makes it hard to breathe, because she doesn’t want this, didn’t want this, and-_

And-

“Jamie!”

The light above her was blinding, and mixed with the panicked roaring in her ears, she was listless for long, suffering seconds. Slower than she would have liked, but quicker than she anticipated, everything snapped into focus, and her body began to tremble violently.

Around her, the biobed shrieked wildly, calling out the alarming rate that her brain waves and heartbeat had reached; signaling to any within hearing distance that not only was she awake, but something was wrong. Breath catching in the form of a sob, she scrambled, or tried to at least, but her hands were restrained with soft paddings that didn’t seem soft in the slightest. Adding to her panic, another sharp cry pulled from her throat, animalist in nature.

“Jamie Kirk, cease this at once before you cause yourself further harm!”

Tone sharp, words crisp, the accent in them was impossible to mistake, and the warm wash of relief that pulsed over her was enough to stop the flailing of her legs. Face wet with tears, she hiccupped, still sobbing, and a petrified yelp escaped her at the pinch and hiss of a hypo being released into her neck.

Cool hands wrapped around one of hers, and the touch was instantly accompanied by a rush of _safe, loved, don’t be afraid Jamie, I won’t let anyone harm you_ that stopped the second flush of panic in its tracks.

“Sp-Spock?”

“I am right here, Jamie, you have nothing to fear.”

Turning her head, it hurt, her entire body hurt but for only a second before the hypo took effect, sending a rush of numbing medication through her system. It was a sleep aid, a pain reliever, that much was evident from the way it made her feel light, but her fingers twisted to catch his. Anchoring herself, trembling still, her friend didn’t even flinch in the face of her emotions, taking them as if they were nothing to his shields as he held her hand.

He looked haggard, her Vulcan confident, more so than she had seen him in quite some time. Even when his mother had fallen ill last winter, there hadn’t been those sort of bags under his eyes, there hadn’t been those kind of lines around his mouth. Spock was staring at her, refusing to drop her gaze, and his grip was a constant on her hand that kept her breathing.

She could still feel his hands though, scorching across her skin, bruising and tearing, making her cry and bleed and it made her feel sick.

“Didn-didn’t want i-it! I-I didn’t wa-don’t l-let Bones th-thi-!“

His features softened, around the eyes at least, for everything stayed just as severe, but a blanket of _safety, compassion, protection, no one blames you here Jamie, you are safe now_ settled heavy and warm on her flayed flesh.

“I will see that your honor is defended, but you must sleep now, Jamie. You have suffered a severe trauma and an acute allergic reaction, and your body needs time to rest.”

“Do-don’t g-go,”

Carefully, as if she were a child, Spock undid the bindings on her wrists and gave a glance that must have shooed away the medical assistance hovering outside of her own field of vision. Rubbing softly at her wrists, as if he could gentle the bruises away, her friend took care of her as if she would break. His tone was solemn when he spoke, as if his words were grave, but Jamie took comfort in them all the same.

“I will do everything in my power to see that you are never alone again.”

Smiling slowly, breath still catching, there was a fuzziness in her head then, making her feel lighter than the air she was trying to breathe. It was with great care that he drew the blanket up to her chin, not releasing his hold on her hand as he tucked her in as a parent would a child.

“Sleep Jamie, you’re safe now. I am here.”

-

There was going to be a trial in the following weeks, since the DNA that they had managed to collect from both her skin and the rape-kit had given more than enough to identify her attacker. The mixture of evidence had been collected by the police; police that she had been forced to talk to. The documentation showing the readouts from the biobed for not only brain wave activity, but also anxiety levels and every other thing that went wrong helped in her favor too. There was more than enough to make sure that everything was taken care of, and that was exactly how the officer had said it too, that this worked in her favor.

Some favor indeed.

One of them had been foolish enough to leave a PADD within grabbing distance and distracted enough that he hadn’t even noticed that it had gone missing after all the questioning had been done. The officers had left, the nurses weren’t to be checking on her for some time since she’d asked to just be left alone, and Spock had already informed her that he would return to her side as soon as he was finished with his meeting at the Academy. Alone, she’d hacked into the PADD with ease, lips twisting up in distaste at the state of their defense systems.

And then she’d wished she hadn’t, by the time she’d found her files.

There was a series of security camera’s that had caught the encounter, one from the head of the alley, one from right above where her head had been, and one diagonal of them. All had been put in place for the safety of the businesses in the area, and all three had caught every detail from her encounter. Beside them, there had been a shuffle of holos, things that had played through without her even wanting them to.

She’d been denied access to a mirror for the first few days and sedated heavily before then, while they put her under the intense care of dermal and osteo regenerators, so that the full extent of the damage had been lost to her.

Jaw broken in two places.

Nasal fracture.

Brow bone fractured.

Severe concussion.

Five bruises on her skull from his fingertips.

Dislocated shoulder.

Fractured ribs.

Broken hip.

Shattered ankle.

An entire catalogue of contusions and lacerations.

Extreme vaginal tearing.

Epidural hematoma.

And the list had gone on, but she had lost the ability to even see the PADD in her hands, let alone the digital script and the photographic evidence ofwhat she had faced. Just the same, she had lost the ability to breathe properly, to function enough to let go of the damn device, but the biobed picked up none of it. She had quieted it, for some ungodly reason, unable to take the beeping and the humming any longer, and so she had shut off the alarm system in it completely.

The nurses hadn’t noticed.

The nurses hadn’t noticed, and she couldn’t find it within herself to breathe, to find the function to stop shaking. Clawing at herself, Jamie could feel his hands once more, pulling and pushing and _branding_ her, ruining her as far as anything else was concerned. Gagging, throat fluttering, stomach contracting, her body tipped, enough that she spilled out of the bed and landed against the floor with a quiet smack. It stung, the harsh, cold impact, knocking what was left of her breath out of her, and she curled then.

Twisting in on herself, the ringing in her ears blocked out the high whining sound that slithered past her tightly clenched teeth. She could feel it then, the ache in her jaw from the places it had been broken, just as she could feel every other hurt and throb that was no longer actually there. Phantom sensations, memories that burned acidic and bright against her skin and her mind, making her gag once more as her face grew wet, hot.

She was going to be sick, could feel it in her stomach.

“Shit, Jamie-girl.”

No, no, he wasn’t supposed to be here, he hadn’t been there yet and he wasn’t supposed to come. Spock had kept him away, hadn’t told him anything, because she’d asked him too, didn’t want Bones to know. Didn’t want Bones to know, because Bones was Leonard, and Leonard was perfection and gentleness and light, and she was-

She was dirty now, dirty, dirty, and he was going to get it too if he kept touching her, but he lifted her up, cupping his hand gently around the back of her head and pulling her up. Tipping her, carefully, he eased her hair back, holding her over the trash can she hadn’t been able to find. Retching, it was nothing but acid, acid and the water that she’d been drinking faster than the nurses wanted her to. It splashed against the can, disgusting and wet against the inside of it and the bottom, and the smell of it made her gag harder, body curling.

His arm was around her stomach, keeping her upright, and his hand was holding back her hair, having twisted it gently around his fingers to keep it away from the bile.

“Easy sweetheart, you’re doing fine, you’re fine.”

Carefully, he pulled her back against his chest, cradling her there even when she struggled, and Jamie felt his lips brush against her temple with a painfully gentle motion.

Flinching instantly, her hands pressed against his chest, nails biting and sharp where she’d bitten them jagged. He wasn’t allowed to do that, he couldn’t have affection like that where she was concerned, because she wasn’t good anymore. She wasn’t clean, she’d never been clean. Not since that man in Iowa, not since Tarsus, and definitely not now. Dirty, ruined and unclean, she was going to make Bones dirty too, and Bones wasn’t allowed to be dirty, because Leonard had to be perfect, was perfect, because he saved people, and she wasn’-

“Stop it.”

His voice was gruff, accent thicker than usual, and his grip tightened on her body, pulling her flush against him. Fingers knotted in her hair, he held her in place, rough and demanding in a way that she couldn’t take, so she pushed, pushed and pushed, but he wouldn’t give, wouldn’t let her.

“Fucking stop it, you’re not-you’re not dirty. You’re perfect and beautiful and there is _nothing_ wrong with you.”

There was stubble burning the side of her face, and his voice was so thick that she could hardly understand it, but there was comfort there. More than she was used to after so long, because Bones had been distracted by so many things recently, and Jamie wanted nothing more than to lean into him even though she felt like she was going to come out of her own skin. Too tight, too much, and she couldn’t fucking breathe from it all, because he wasn’t supposed to say that. He was supposed to be disgusted with her, not want to see her and not want to touch her.

There was something dripping on her hair, hot and wet, and his voice was wrecked when he spoke. His voice was wrecked, and his chest was rattling under her ear, and Jamie realized with a start that he was crying.

Bones was crying.

Whimpering, she pushed away again, trembling violently as she reached for him. Bloodshot eyes looking at him, taking him in, it was easy to see that he was just as wrecked as he sounded. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and a vicious dance of red veins through the whites of them that made the hazel seem darker, more shadowed. His face hadn’t seen a razor in days, a fair amount of beard in place, and there was a layer of grease in his hair that looked more than two days old.

“Wh-when was the las-last time you showered?”

Voice quiet, the hesitance in her tone was enough to make him flinch from her.

His flinch made her stammer more, heart racing in her chest to try to fix it, try to make it better. Because Bones wasn’t supposed to flinch, just like Bones wasn’t supposed to cry. He was supposed to be happy and healthy and smiling at his patients, pouring over data PADDS, not worrying about her.

“I-I’m sorry, I di-didn’t mea-I wasn-wasn’t-!”

“Sh, darlin’ stop, just, for the love of God, please just _stop_.” Mouth against her hair once more, he pulled her back closer, grip tightening painfully on her shoulders till she was sure to bruise. There was that hot, wet feeling there still, running down the side of her face even though the tears weren’t hers, and it put her stomach in knots, made her feel more sick that she already did. “Just stop.”

She could still feel his hands, pulling at her and pushing her, bruising and breaking things. It burned, and Jamie choked, body quivering and her nails cutting into his skin once more. Bones didn’t seem to care though, because Leonard was like that, didn’t care if he got hurt, and his hands shifted. Wrapping around her shoulders, they clenched there, holding tight before they have her a sharp shake. Head rattling, hair flopping in a dull fashion, wide, bloodshot glacial blue eyes stared at him.

“You didn’t do a god damned thing wrong, you hear me? I didn’t keep an eye on you, I let you get pulled out of that place, and I-I let you get hurt. None of that blame’s on you, you hear me Jamie?” He pressed kisses along her hairline, threading his fingers in the ends of the strands gently, and somehow, he didn’t flinch when she did. Instead, he grew even more gentle, taking more care with her, and it made her heart ache that he felt he had to do that.

His words were muffled when he spoke, mouth still pressed to her hair and his fingers trailed from her hair to her shoulders, carefully stroking down her arms. Gentle up and down motions, repetitive as if she were simply cold, Bones kept his touch painfully light against her skin. There was still that wetness there, dripping onto her hair, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about that.

“How do you feel about getting out of here?”

His words were slow, like he put a lot of thought into them before speaking them against her hair and skin. Like he had to take great care with her or she’d flit away from him all over again, leaving him holding nothing but empty air. Spock had looked at her like that, when she’d woken the second time, like he was expecting her to disappear right out of the bed and vanish from his sight all over again.

“Ca-can I?”

His grip tightened a bit, and slowly, his arms encircled her, closing around her carefully. Sheltering her like he hadn’t before, there was a heaviness in his words, in the feel of his skin against hers, but Jamie welcomed it.

“Course you can, darlin’, you just give me a few minutes and we’ll go home, how’s that sound?”

It sounded absolutely perfect, and Jamie felt his lips pull up into a hint of a smile against her skin when she told him that.

-

Home, it turned out, wasn’t anywhere in San Francisco.

Nowhere near the hub bub and the rush of all things ‘Fleet related. Away from all the rush and all the people, where the air was hotter and the days were longer, it was easier to breathe.

Home wasn’t Iowa, either, something that she was painfully grateful for because, as much as she wouldn’t have minded returning to her house, Jamie could do without the reminder that she was painfully alone in the corn-fed state.

That was alright though, because his definition of home, it turned out, was an old plantation house that had survived centuries, an hour south of Savannah.

Settled on the marsh, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and bog, sharp salt water and the burn that it brought when the sun hit its peak. The house was tall, a staggering display of white painted wood and wrap around porch, with a wall of window that followed the porch nearly all the way around. Two swirling staircases that arched up to the second story where the main entrance was, offset by the fountain nestled in the middle of their curve. Stretching then for miles was nothing but pasture and woods to one side, the sparkling waters of the marsh that let out into the glistening ocean on the other, and it was empty of all but a handful of people.

Ranch handstended to the horses; bred them and fed them and cleaned them every day, showing up in the monstrous kitchen that the McCoy house showcased every night for dinner, and every morning for breakfast. Supper was taken out to them by Miss ‘call me Eleanor, sweetie’ McCoy, who insisted that Jamie didn’t have any obligation to help her with any of the chores. The food was all made by hand, since Eleanor had turned up her nose at the mention of replicated anything, and she’d taken all of Jamie’s food allergies in stride as if they weren’t a hindrance at all.

When they’d arrived, the older woman had been elbow deep in dough, with flour in her dark brown hair and a streak of brown sugar across her cheek. She hadn’t been expecting them, not if the startled cry she’d let out at the sight of her son was anything to go by, or the way she’d completely disregarded the state of her skin to grab Leonard’s face. She’d swayed there then, getting dough in his hair and his scruff, chastising him for not having warned her he was coming before she’d seen Jamie.

Jamie, who had been hiding in the doorway with wide eyes and tensed shoulders, her fingers knotted around themselves to give her something to hold onto. Eleanor’s entire demeanor had softened, her dark eyes going wide before her lips had pursed in concern. She’d clucked her tongue, chastising Leonard then for the fact that she was so thin, gently setting her hands on Jamie’s shoulders and sweeping her hair back, littering her with dough as well.

A week later, and the woman still treated her the same. Surely though, Bones had talked to her, because Eleanor would get a certain look in her eyes when they were alone in the kitchen. Like she was waiting for Jamie to fall apart, and like she was more than ready to put the pieces back together with careful, maternal care when it finally happened.

It was unnerving, most of the time, which led to her being where she was now.

Dinner sat heavy in her stomach, fresh caught shrimp that had simmered away all day in a wide, deep pot. River fish and crab had been mixed into it, a cluster of vegetables from the garden, some from the neighbor market in the little town thirty minutes out. It had all cooked together to make a thick, spiced broth that had been sopped up by the homemade biscuits that Jamie had made herself that morning, after breakfast, with flour that she could actually handle.

She’d slipped out not long after the dishes had been gathered, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of people in the dining room and the level of noise they produced. Bare footed, the wood of the long dock was warm underfoot, and a faint bit of sweat rolled down the back of her neck where she’d swept her hair up into a messy knot. The sun was warm, the air bitter with the rich marsh salt, and it was easy to escort herself down to the gazebo that stood in the water at the very end of the dock.

Laying herself out in the shade, limbs spread a bit, Jamie sighed, stretched on her stomach with her head pillowed on her arms to watch the gentle flow of the river water. There were no river dolphins, not like there had been that morning but, faintly, she could hear the click of the fiddler crabs as they came back out from their holes in the marsh mud. Gently, the gazebo rocked with the water, lulling her into a sort of relaxed state that she hadn’t felt for days. Sunlight warm on her skin, the air was quiet except for the sounds of the water, and quietly, she shut her eyes.

The next time she opened them, Jamie wasn’t alone.

Instead, stretched out beside her with a PADD under his hands, Bones was the picture of everything she’d come to appreciate in the last few years of knowing him. His face was clean shaven, Eleanor having put her foot down on the prospect of her son not looking presentable when he’d gone to the trouble of bringing a guest home. Unlike how she saw it most of the time at the academy, his hair was uncombed, strands tangled and standing on end in a few places from where his fingers had woventhrough it all. A faint sheen of sweat had collected across his brow, disappearing into his eyebrows, and his eyes were dark on the PADD before him, scowl set in place.

Sometime during her nap, she’d shifted to curl on her side, and a shifting glance showed where the sun had bleached the old, thin lashing scars a brilliant white against the rest of her acquired tan. Staring at them for a moment, stomach souring, Jamie let out a sigh through her nose, tracing one of the raised marks on the inside of her elbow. There was no doubt in her mind that the ones on the backs of her legs, her back or her stomach didn’t look the same, but she hadn’t put much thought into them during the past week.

“You made me nervous, you know that?”

Gaze jerking up, glacial blue eyes found him, bright with questions even as her brow furrowed down into a sharp slant. Bones wasn’t looking at her though, was still intent on whatever was on the PADD in front of him and, from the angle she lay at, Jamie couldn’t tell what the words were. Another medical mystery most likely, another astounding discovery, and she wondered if this one had his name on it as well.

“I didn’t want to be on the damn shuttle in the first place, would have been just fine with waiting the ride out in the bathroom. Would have been easier if I’d thrown up, but no, that bitch just wouldn’t let me. Only open seat happened to be next to you, but I didn’t really think much on that when she was forcing me down into it.”

“Then you started talking to me. Stole a drink from my flask when I told you I was going to throw up on you, and just stared at me with those bright baby blues and I thought ‘fuck, I didn’t know they made eyes like that’. And then I saw the rest of you, and you were beautiful, even with your bloodied lip and the bruises on your skin, the blood on your clothes. Your hair was a mess, and you looked like your smile could take a piece out of me, but I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything more beautiful.”

Her lips shut and her eyes wide, Jamie watched him in silence as he turned the digital page on his PADD, listening as he spoke.

“I resigned myself to just watching out for you though, because there was no way a pretty thing like you would ever want to settle with an old country doctor like me. That’s proved to be a headache and a half though, let me tell you, you’re more trouble than any foal I’ve ever had to break and just as much of a pain. Then you decided we needed to go to that jazz bar, and I was content to just go along for the ride and make sure you didn’t get hurt, but then I saw you.”

His eyes were on her then, and Jamie felt herself coloring, heart beat quickening, and she felt conscious of herself in a way that she didn’t usually. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d managed to be comfortable in her own skin after everything that life had given her, but he looked at her like that, and she felt like nothing had changed. Everything had though, absolutely everything had changed, and he knew that just as well as she did.

“You looked stunning, beautiful as anything, and you made me nervous. Because I didn’t want to go somewhere with you when you looked like that, and watch you leave with someone else. So I had a few drinks, and I didn’t watch you, and I didn’t notice when you got pulled out of that place. I didn’t keep an eye on you, and you did get hurt, and I didn’t know about it when you didn’t get back to me the next day. Thought you were just having a good time somewhere, so I went into work for my shift the next night, and didn’t think a damn thing about it till I heard some of the nurses talking at their station about a case that had come in, and I heard them cooing over how bad they felt for the girl. One of them looked sick when they talked about the injuries, the regenerators they’d had to use, and I was content to walk away until I heard one of them say you’re name. And then I just…the entire world fell out from under me it was like, and I found out what room number you were in, but you’ve got a fucking Vulcan guard dog more vicious than any beast I’ve ever seen.”

Tipping her head a bit more, she could see what he was reading then, and her insides twisted up in knots. That was her name on that PADD, her medical information, and all the records that had been gathered from her attack. Of course he had read them, she had known that he would eventually, but part of her wanted to know when he’d gotten them, and just how long he’d been combing those files over.

“And he wouldn’t let me in, flat out told me I didn’t have the right. That you’d trusted me, dolled yourself up just for me, and instead of treating you right, I’d stood by while you’d gotten hurt. And I believe him, because Spock wouldn’t lie, not about anything like that. Not about anything, actually, since Vulcan’s supposedly can’t do that sort of thing.”

Carefully, giving her ample time to pull away from him, Leonard reached out, easing away a few of the strands of her hair that had fallen in front of her face. His skin was warm, fingertips rough against her own, but his touch was just as painfully gentle as it had been in her hospital room when she’d been quivering on the floor.

“You’re beautiful here, too, with the sunlight and the water and my house. I’d keep you here if I could, all safe and bundled up in sunshine and old books where my Mama can keep an eye on you and I can keep you safe. But you’re Jamie Kirk, and you won’t stop until you get a ship of your very own, I know you.”

He smiled at her though, and Jamie curled, body bending until her head was pressed against his arm. There, she shifted around enough until she could get comfortable, and she closed her eyes, content to just lay there with his body warm against hers.

-

Coming awake with a start, the lights of Sickbay above her were blindingly bright. Eyes shutting tight, teeth grinding in her jaw, Jamie could feel every pinpoint where something had been broken and mended, every bruise that hadn’t completely healed. Her entire body ached with it, burned in a way it hadn’t in a while, and she felt like she was going to be sick just from the thought of it.

Still, she pushed herself up, ignoring the way that her head swam and the way that her stomach threatened to turn itself inside out on the floor. Fingers sliding to the edge of the biobed, she silenced the machine with a few deft clicks before it could start screaming, and locked her knees to slide off the bed. Hands braced behind her on the edge of the bed, her fingers curled, short nails digging into the soft mattress as she steadied herself. Only a few seconds, no longer than a few minutes, and Jamie took a deep breath.

The mission had turned into a shit storm the moment they’d beamed down, one thing going wrong after another and, by the time they’d reached the extraction point, the planet around them had looked like a war zone. There had been screams all around, and the away team she had taken had been small to start with. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission, only two security officers and a communications officer on their first run off ship. Instead, everything had turned into a shit show, a civil war having broken out among the planets people.

She’d taken fire, using her body to cover the ensign communications officer as soon as she’d seen something pointed their way, and the blast had been enough to send them flying. Someone had screamed, and Sulu’s voice had been in her ear, demanding to know what was going on back up in the ship, but she had barely been able to hear him over the roar in her ears. She’d called for the evac though, but the level of interference they’d been experiencing had been too much.

They’d had to run for a clear spot, and the officer she’d tried to save had gone down, shot straight through the head. The security officers had tried to cover her, tried to keep her safe, but Jamie had barked at them until they’d gotten their asses in gear, defending themselves as they ran from bit of cover to cover.

Letting go of the bed, she could feel the sharp ache where the shot had gone through her shoulder, the sting from the shrapnel that had nicked the pulsing vein in her neck.

Gritting her teeth harder, Jamie locked her knees as soon as they tried to give way, and spread her arms out a bit to keep her balance.

Everything had gone sort of hazy after that, a mixture of alien shouts and the sharp voices of her two remaining teammates. One of them had picked her up, she’d fallen in a heap with the explosion that had caused the metal to catch her throat, and the hands that had pressed against her bleeding neck had been shaking. The swirling sensation of the transporter, someone shouting, and then the familiar, angry tones of her CMO demanding that they give him room.

Only a few days ago she’d been playing chess in her room with her First Officer; had been taking knitting lessons from his mother in her house on Vulcan via video chat, because Amanda was good like that. Amanda was verygood like that and, if Jamie had finally gotten approval to celebrate Christmas aboard the ship, then damnit, she was going to give her friend something hand-made, like a sweater. Amanda had said he liked sweaters, and the young Captain now wanted nothing more than to go back to those ‘few days ago’.

Nothing had hurt then; no one had died then.

“Fuck are you doing out of bed?”

Startling, head lifting sharply, the few steps she’d taken away from her biobed to test herself proved to be too much, and Jamie’s legs gave out. Leonard surged forward though, one arm banding tightly around her waist to keep a handle on her, and there was no gentleness to him when he crushed her against him. Instead, it was a tight, punishing hold, one that grated on her ribs and gave the sweet promise of a bruise that would form. A fine-boned tremble was set in his arm, she could feel it against where he held her, and that was her fault, she was to blame for that.

“B’nes.”

Voice a thick gurgle, he scowled down at her, looking haggard and angry all at once. Progress though, there was progress in the way that she didn’t flinch away from him, and there was a shine of pride there in his eyes amidst all the other things. Fingers curling in his uniform shirt, Jamie clung, using him to hold herself up since her legs didn’t seem to want to do it for her.

“Back in the fu-“

“L’ve yo’.”

She could feel it against her, the way that his chest suddenly expanded, the sharp inhale that he seemed content to just hold there for a few minutes. His arm tightened around her, enough that she felt her ribs grate against themselves, and she winced, but stayed firm against him. More so, her grip tightened on his shirt, and she pulled herself up until she could push her lips against his.

He tasted sharp like the marsh salt that had clung to her skin for the month she had spent in sleepy Georgia. Clean like antiseptic, like Sickbay, musky like the Bourbon that he wasn’t supposed to get into without her, and just as sharp as she remembered the marsh salt being when she’d rotten river water in her mouth. Clinging to him, his mouth was firm against hers, lips rough from where he had been biting them and hot to the touch.

Too soon for her liking though, he pulled away from her, and his grip eased up on her middle just a bit. His breath was a puff against her cheek, and his forehead was pressed to hers, so close that she had to squint to see his eyes.

“I love you too, darlin’, but you can’t be up right now, okay? I had to sew your throat back together, and I had to…you shouldn’t even be standing right now, Jamie-girl, please, get back in the bed.”

Moving carefully, he guided her back to the bed, and hesitated for a moment when she made it obvious that she wasn’t going to let go of him. Huffing a bit of a laugh against her hair, the motion was familiar, and he eased her down onto the bed before taking up the empty space in it beside her. By no means was it large enough for the two of them, and to compensate, she ended up curling herself so she was curled half on top of him, his arm wrapped around her and his fingers buried in her hair.

“You can’t keep doin’ this to me, darlin’. I know I can’t get you to promise to stop putting yourself in danger, or stop putting others before yourself, but just come back to me so I can fix you, alright?”

Nodding sharply, as best as she could with the ache in her throat, Jamie closed her eyes as his mouth pressed to her forehead. He kept it there though, intent on just lying there like that, and that was fine, because she didn’t plan on letting him go anytime soon. White knuckled, her fingers curled a bit tighter in his shirt, enough that she heard a few seams pop, and she nuzzled closer into his warmth even as her fingers ached.


End file.
